


where is the love? (the love)

by sarcastic_fina



Category: Daredevil (TV), Fantastic Four (Movieverse), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Darcy Lewis is Betty Ross's half sister, Darcy Lewis is Tony Stark's Daughter, F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-26 10:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 18,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1684328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcastic_fina/pseuds/sarcastic_fina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various drabbles, oneshots, prompt fills pairing Darcy Lewis with other characters, either romantically or platonically.</p><p>(28) Darcy & Jane: "Don't let go!" [1940's, Cap!Jane, (eventual) Winter Soldier!Darcy]<br/>(29) Darcy & Jane: "That’s the third time I’ve saved your life!"<br/>(30) Darcy/Natasha: "I trust you."<br/>(31) Darcy/Bruce: things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Darcy/Clint, skype

"So, how long am I supposed to play nice before I ask when your shirt’s coming off…?" 

Clint sighed at her. “Romance is lost on your, Lewis. You’re supposed to at  _least_ ask me how my day’s going, let me commiserate a while, take an interest in my hobbies…” 

Darcy shook her head, raising a finger disagreeably. “A) You can’t tell me where you are or what you’re doing, even though we both know you’re shooting shit, it’s pretty much a given. B) I know your hobbies; refer back to A. And C) I am  _so_ romantic. I made a playlist for this very skype conversation!”

"Does it have ‘Baby Got Back’ on it? Because if it does, you lose, and I win, and you owe me dinner and a movie." 

She paused, her eyes darting to the left, and then said, “I will marathon Netflix with you and buy you a meatball sandwich from that street vendor you like, and that is the best you’re going to get.” 

He huffed a laugh at her and leaned back in his bunk, laptop balanced in his lap. “Deal.” 

"Good. Now show momma the goods," she said, making ‘gimme’ hands at the camera. 

He rolled his eyes, but he took his shirt off all the same, and Darcy sighed happily. “ _So_  worth a meatball sub.” 


	2. Darcy/Clint, colour schemes

"Listen, every room in this place can’t be a variation of purple," Darcy told him, shaking her head. "I get it. You like it.  _Yay_ , Hawkeye. But if I have to look at it in every room, I’m going to start hating it, which means, when you start coming back from missions, I’m not going to get all hot and bothered when you’re still in your suit. Which would be a crying shame, seriously.” 

"Can’t have that," he said, handing her a beer and stealing the color switch from her hand. "So, on a scale of red to blue, what’s going to get me laid more often?" 

"Nude," she answered. 

He grinned. “I can do that.” 


	3. Darcy/Bruce, sick

Curled up in bed, she was wrapped up tight in the blanket, wrinkling her nose at the cup he put on the bedside table, taking a seat beside her and rubbing a hand over where he though her hip was beneath the blankets.

She frowned. “All of this tea tastes like dish water…” 

He rolled his eyes and reached up to readjust his glasses. “It doesn’t matter what it tastes like, it’s supposed to make you feel better.” 

"You know what would make me feel better? Chocolate. And cuddles. Chocolate flavored cuddles." 

His mouth twitched up on one side. “I know I shouldn’t ask, but  _how_  are cuddles chocolate flavored?” 

She wiggled herself around until she was on her back, looking up at him, her head on his and her pillows stacked beneath her. “It’s a three-step plan. Step one: we eat chocolate. Step two: we cuddle. Step three: we make-out like teenagers.”

He laughed lightly, before shaking his head as he told her, “Darcy, you can’t breathe through your nose, how do you expect to make-out?”

She pouted up at him. “With frequent breathing breaks?” 

She still had to drink the shitty tea, but he tempered it with chocolate flavored kisses, so she considered it a win.


	4. Darcy/Tony, jealous

Darcy was late. Usually, she would’ve infiltrated his shop already and ordered him to eat something. He would argue he wasn’t hungry and that genius waited for no sandwich, but without her there, it was throwing off his flow. Tossing his tools back onto the table in front of him, he grabbed a rag to clean his hands off and left his shop with DUM-E on his heels, making his way down the hall and toward Foster’s corner of the science floor. 

He expected to see her wrangling Jane, arguing with her to put away her stars and numbers and to eat the Poptarts or legitimate food, depending on how long Foster had been awake, she’d gone through the trouble of getting together. What he found, however, was one of the junior agents, leaning against her desk, smirking down at her. 

Darcy raised an eyebrow, looking up at him, and leaned back in her chair, and nodded along as he spoke. 

Tony couldn’t tell if she was reciprocating the agent’s very obvious interest, but he didn’t like it. He wasn’t sure why, and he didn’t feel like acknowledging the weird feeling in his stomach or the irritation that flared up, but none of that stopped him from marching into the lab. He cleared his throat, impatiently waiting for their attention to move to him.

Tony’s brows hiked. ”Hi, who are you? What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice quick, staring at the agent expectantly. 

He stood from Darcy’s desk, losing the relaxed, flirtatious look he’d been wearing before. “Mr. Stark,” he greeted. “I’m Agent Mannis.” 

Tony hummed dismissively. “Are you a science agent, Mannis? Are you here to make sure Foster wields her stars judiciously?”

DUM-E rolled over and began poking at Mannis’ leg, for no particular reason, and didn’t stop even when the agent tried to step out of his reach.

"Or are you here for Lewis?" Tony continued. "I can think of at least three things she should probably be arrested for, but I wouldn’t bother. I have it on good authority she can pick handcuffs and has friends in high places." 

Mannis blinked at him, glanced at Darcy, and then opened his mouth, though he didn’t seem sure of how he should answer. 

Darcy snorted, rolled her eyes, and stood from her desk. “Ignore him, he hasn’t had lunch.” She walked past the agent and DUM-E. “Thanks for dropping in, Agent. I’ll talk to Son of Coul myself, get it all figured out.” 

"Sure. If you wanted any help with the paperwork, I’d be happy to lend a hand," Mannis suggested, grinning at her. 

"Lewis is a big girl, I’m sure she can figure it out on her own," Tony interceded. "And if not, I’ll make sure my lawyers go over it with her. Wouldn’t want any shady SHIELD back-door business going on, hm?" 

Mannis glanced at him and then back to Darcy. 

"Like I said, no lunch makes him cranky." Taking Tony by the elbow, she tugged on him and started for the door. "C’mon, Iron Idiot, we need to get you fed." 

Tony wiggled his fingers in a mocking farewell to Mannis and turned to walk beside Darcy, DUM-E rolling after them. 

"You wanna tell me what all that was about?" she wondered, raising an eyebrow at him. 

"What was what?" he asked, feigning innocence. "I was just having a friendly conversation. Letting him know you were off limits. Doesn’t he know you work for me and not SHIELD?" 

“ _Technically_ , I work for Jane. I just live and work in your building.” 

"And what kind of landlord would I be if I didn’t step in when SHIELD sent some creepy agent for you?" 

"There are a few adjectives I’d use for Mannis; creepy isn’t one of them," she said, amused. 

He pursed his lips at her. “I thought you had better taste, Lewis. I’m sorely disappointed.” 

"Yeah? And who were you hoping I’d have a  _taste_ for?” she asked, raising an eyebrow before she walked off ahead of him, all temptation in her sashaying hips.

Darcy looked back at him over her shoulder with a grin, and that leaden feeling in his stomach of before evaporated, replaced with a low-simmering heat. He wouldn’t say he was — he was Tony Stark, who did he have to be jealous of?  _pfft_  — but if he  _was_ , he had a feeling he didn’t need to be…


	5. Darcy/Natasha, talking about Steve

Natasha laid on her side, her head pillowed on her hand, elbow pressed into the mattress, as she looked down at her, an eyebrow raised. Darcy was on her stomach, the sheet pushed down to her waist, her dark hair pulled to one side. She hummed contently as Natasha’s fingers ran up and down her back lightly, interspersed with her leaning over to press a string of kisses down the slope of her shoulder. 

"I’m just saying… maybe he doesn’t want a girlfriend. Maybe he just needs comfort. Someone warm to curl up with at night," Darcy said, her eyes closed.

"He’s lonely," Natasha said simply, a fact. 

"Of course he is. He came out of the war and got thrown into a new one with nobody he knew and a completely different team than he was used to. And, let’s face it, I doubt SHIELD cared much about how he was dealing with his grief. They probably got wood when they realized they had a real live super-soldier at their disposal. Who cares what he was going through emotionally." She scoffed, her lips pursing in a frown. 

Natasha paused, her eyes turned off, and then she leaned over, resting her chin on Darcy’s shoulder, her arm curved up her back. “What about Carla? In billing.” 

Darcy wrinkled her nose. “She’s a little… meek. I think Cap likes strong women. Like you, but less assassin-y.” She turned her head, grinning. “Also, you’re taken.” 

She raised an eyebrow, her lips curling at the corner. “Am I?”

Darcy nodded. “Some crazy intern who can’t fight a lick and probably tases people too often has got you all to herself. She doesn’t like to share either, so Cap should probably keep his red, white and blue mits to himself.” 

Natasha laughed, a low, throaty sound, and turned her face down to press her teeth into Darcy’s shoulder in an affectionate bite. “If you insist,” she murmured, sliding her hand down Darcy’s back, fingers slipping under the sheet. 

Darcy turned over onto her back, inviting Natasha in closer. “I insist.” 


	6. Darcy/Thor, unexpected kiss

Darcy’s favorite place was on the roof, and that didn’t change just because they weren’t in Puente Antigua anymore.

Thor found her, smiling as she tipped her beer at him in cheers. 

"Hey, Big Guy," she greeted. "Have I mentioned lately how cool it is to have you back around here?"

"It does not seem as though Jane shares your same sentiment," he replied, joining her to take a seat on the lawn chairs she’d commandeered from Tony’s balcony of extravagance. 

"Well, that happens when you leave for years at a time. Girl starts to feel overlooked." She shrugged, taking a drag from her beer before she offered it to him. "I swear I don’t have cooties."

He smiled at her in thanks, took a sip of his own, and handed it back. Licking his lips, he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. The sigh he gave was long and deep. “Were it easier, I would visit more often, but I have… duties, expectations that I must adhere to.”

"It’s tough being prince, I hear ya," she replied. 

He turned to her, mouth turned up faintly at the corners. “I have often asked myself if it was selfish to want for a simpler life. To want to be here, to leave those ties behind, even temporarily.”

"And?" she asked, arching an eyebrow. "What’s the conclusion?" 

He frowned. “My honor tells me it is. My loyalty to Asgard tells me that I should be proud of my place there and I should care for my people and the realms as they deserve. But my heart…”

"Is in a lab with a distracted scientist who lives on Poptarts and stale coffee?" she finished knowingly. 

He glanced at her. “Perhaps, yes. Perhaps part of me is with Jane. But she is not the only draw to Midgard… There are other people, other interests here that keep me.” 

"Avengers Assemble," she said lightly, winking at him. "You look pretty rad with your hammer, and you’ve got a nice following, too." 

His brow furrowed as he looked down at his hands, tracing his fingers absently. “I believe, if given the chance, that I could call Midgard my home. That I could love Jane fiercely, if I do not already. But my duty and honor… I fear they may come first.” 

"These are some deep drops in the ocean for a Wednesday, buddy." She leaned forward, reaching over and covering his hand and drawing his gaze up to meet hers. "Listen, take it from someone who hasn’t been alive anywhere near as long as you… Life either goes by really fast or really slow; either way, you should be doing something you love when it’s happening. So screw duty and expectations. Ask yourself what  _you_ want and then grab it by the balls and just go for it. If that means going back to Asgard and princing it up over there, do it. If it means sticking around here and playing Avengers 24/7,  _do it_. Just as long a  _you_  are happy at the end of the day.” She poked him in the chest and smiled. “‘Cause  _you’ve_  gotta matter to you before anything else can.” 

He stared at her searchingly before a faint smile broke across his lips. “You are very wise for your few years, Darcy. A better friend in this plain, I could not have found.” 

"Good thing I tased you then, right?" 

He chuckled lowly, nodding. “Indeed.” 

Sobering, she looked up at him. “I mean it, though, Thor. I love Jane and it would suck, a lot, not to have you around anymore. But what we want, what she wants, it has to come second. If you’re beating yourself up over this stuff, then something’s gotta change, because you can’t live your life for other people. You deserve to be happy, wherever that is and with whoever you want.” She squeezed his hand. “I’ll support you.” 

Thor her works sink in, his shoulders relaxing slowly and then he turned to look at her, searching her eyes. It was a few emotion-heavy heartbeats before he reached for her, his finger tucked under her chin, and he raised it up just a few inches. He leaned in, pausing on a breath, and then he slanted his lips over hers, gentle and searching. Darcy let out a muffled squeak of surprise, but let her fingers flutter up to his cheek, resting there against his bristly, blonde whiskers. 

Her mouth parted on a sigh and he leaned in a little closer, his mouth pressing firmly to hers, his tongue stroking between her lips and flicking the back of her teeth. She repeated the gesture in kind, sucking on his top lip. A low hum of approval rumbled from his chest, his teeth catching on her lower lip and tugging before he soothed it with a stroke of his tongue.

For a moment, she felt heat flash over her, and she could just imagine what it would be like, caught up in a storm made entirely of him. Of his hands, seeming so big, stroking down her sides and cradling her thighs as they came together in a flurry of emotion and support and comfort. She cold imagine his whiskers rasping down her neck and her chest and tickling at her stomach as he kissed every inch of her he could reach. She imagined,  _vividly_ , the way he would look at her, all stormy, intense, blue eyes, his mouth parting on a blissful moan as he moved inside her, filling her, consuming her, showing her what thunder felt like from the inside out. And it would be  _amazing_. Without a doubt, an experience she would never regret. Except for one part. 

He wasn’t hers. 

He could feel the hesitation in her kiss, the uncertainty, the way she was thinking too much to enjoy it. And he pulled back knowingly, a soft smile on lips she’d never forget the feel of. He cradled her face, his thumb stroking affectionately over her cheek, and he pressed those same lips to her forehead, lingering a long moment.

He sighed, drawn out and heavy, and then he turned his face, his cheek rubbing against hers, and against her ear, he murmured, “Thank you.” 

For the kiss or the comfort or any number of things, she wasn’t sure. Maybe all of it, maybe for something else entirely, she didn’t ask. She closed her eyes and she breathed him in, smelling of rain water and the cool, night air, and she enjoyed the moment for what it was. A goodbye to what could be, an understanding of what never would be again. 

When he pulled back and walked away, she stayed on the roof, gazing up at the stars, her lips swollen and her heart a little off-beat. Maybe he would go or maybe he would stay, maybe he and Jane would work it out or maybe they wouldn’t. Whatever happened, she was content. She was happy. She lived life for her and the risk was well worth the reward, brief as it was. Regardless of what came next, Thor was her friend and, amazing kisses aside, he always be.


	7. Darcy/Clint, hurt/comfort

It was one of those days. Sometimes a mission triggered it, sometimes something random did it, but he’d get caught up in his head, flashback to his time with Loki, and shut down. She found him lying in their bed, quiet and still. 

"Hey," she murmured, curling up behind him, her chin on his shoulder and her arm wrapped around to his front, hand over his heart. "You wanna make-out?"

He shook his head faintly.

"You wanna talk about it?" 

He hummed negatively. 

"You want me to hold you ‘til you feel better?" 

He didn’t respond right away, but then he covered her hand with his and squeezed. 

Darcy smiled faintly and slid her leg over his hip. 

"You got all day?" he asked, tipping his head down as he lifted her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers. 

"For you, I’ve got as long as you need." 

In reply, he leaned back a little, pressing closer to her, and she held on a little tighter. 


	8. Darcy/Clint, sleeping positions

On her own, Darcy slept in the middle of the bed. No shame. She starfished it and enjoyed the space.

Darcy was a bed hog; always had been, always would be. She even kicked her pillows out of bed so it was just her, tangled in her sheet and blanket, reaching and covering every inch of the bed. This had caused an issue in previous relationships; she didn’t really like it when her partners stayed over and she didn’t like staying at their places. Darcy liked her space. She liked having her bed to herself. She liked curling up into a tiny ball when she had cramps and sleeping sideways when she needed a change of position, and she put her head at the end of the bed when she was feeling sick, because it felt cooler down there for some reason. The point was, her bed was her kingdom, and she was the king. 

But then Clint came along, and she kind liked the way he felt at her back. She liked that, somehow, his body just knew to move with hers when she shifted around in her sleep. He didn’t crowd her, he just unconsciously mimicked her. She would put money on it being an agent thing, or maybe a circus thing, or hell, maybe just a bird adjusting its nest thing. Whatever. But Clint naturally moved with her and still let her sleep in any weird position she wanted to.

When she cramps and she wanted to curl up in that ball, he rubbed her back and let her have as much or as little of the bed as she wanted. If she was sick and she wanted to sleep at the other end, he accommodated; although that could’ve been, in part, due to his aversion to feet. So all in all, she was liking the bed thing. Enough that, even though she used to love starfishing, now it only took a few nights of him being away on mission before she missed having to share. 

So, when he came home in the middle of the night and crawled in next to her, she wasn’t annoyed that she lost half the bed, she was just happy that her other half was sharing it.


	9. Darcy/Coulson, he's not dead

"Well, if it isn’t Agent Asshole…" Darcy shoved the filing cabinet drawer closed and turned to walk away, crossing Jane’s lab to her desk, not bothering to look at him. "Or, I’m sorry, it’s  _Director_ Asshole now, isn’t it?” 

He sighed behind her. 

"Last I checked, Steve kind of pulled the ‘emergency exit’ cord on the Avengers having anything to do with SHIELD, even if it is shiny and new, so what’re you doing around these parts? Stark owns this tower, you can’t miss his name out front, and he’s not too fond of SHIELD right now…"

"Darcy, it’s been three weeks. When are you going to accept my apology for not being dead?" Phil said, keeping his distance while his gaze never strayed from her. "If you think about it, some people would call it a blessing…" 

He managed to casually duck the stapler she threw at his head without even flinching. 

"You’re an asshole!" she yelled, her hand settling on a paperweight.

He eyed it carefully and took another step closer, against every instinct he had. “I think we’ve established that,  _yes_ , I’m an asshole. But in my defense, I didn’t know the whole story of how things happened. I did die, multiple times, and then… things happened. Complicated things that I’m not entirely sure I stand behind. But they happened and I’m here and the situation has changed again. Meaning I’m going to be here more often, whether Stark likes it or not… And you and I will be seeing each other regularly. So, if there is a way that we might be able to come to some kind of agreement…”

"You mean, a way that involves me not throwing things at you every time I see you?" 

"Yes, that, and… I was hoping, with time, you might forgive me and…"

"And  _what?_ " She glared at him. "Bury the hatchet, forget the two years I spent getting over your  _stupid_ , dead ass.” 

"Not forget, but maybe move on from…" He stared at her searchingly before giving his head a shake and stepping closer. He covered her hand on the paperweight. "I’m not saying I don’t think your anger is justified. It is. And if I could do things differently, I don’t know, maybe I would have. I can’t say that the work I did with my team wasn’t worth it. But hurting you was not something I ever wanted to do…" He paused for a moment before telling her, "I missed you. I never thought I’d see you again." 

She sniffed, turning her eyes away when they burned. “You’re still an asshole,” she muttered.

"I am," he agreed and leaned down to press a delicate kiss to her forehead. "But maybe an asshole you don’t hate quite as much as you did five minutes ago…?" 

Darcy shook her head. “I never hated you.” She shifted away from him and walked to the door. “That’s the problem.” 

Phil watched her go, his shoulders slumped and his hand still on the paperweight. It wasn’t forgiveness, not really, but it was a step. And he would take a lot more if it meant regaining her trust and, hopefully, one day, her love.


	10. Darcy & Natasha, goldfish crackers

Darcy woke to dry-mouth and the mother of all headaches. She considered getting up to pee, knock back a bottle of water, and take a few Tylenol but quickly vetoed anything that required getting out of bed.

Instead, she rolled over, groaning, eager to bury her face in her pillow and catch a few more hours sleep. Only something crunched under her when she moved; more than one something. Frowning, she cracked an eye open and tossed her blanket back, only to find her bed littered with little orange fish. 

"What the fuck…?" she muttered in confusion. 

"Problem?" 

Darcy didn’t even flinch; Natasha popped up at random so often that it was no longer a surprise. She was starting to think Nat had some kind of transportation device, or maybe an invisibility cloak that she just whipped off to freak people out. 

Blinking blearily at her, Darcy asked, “Why are there Goldfish crackers all over my bed?” as she dusted them out of her way and to the floor. So, she would be vacuuming as soon as her head stopped throbbing. 

"You decided you wanted to name them and keep them as pets," Natasha told her simply, lifting her mug of coffee and taking a long sip, an eyebrow raised, full of silent mocking. "My favourite was Leopold the Second. You told us Leopold the First died in a terrible house fire after saving his brother from a rogue octopus you called ‘Clint the asshole who steals people’s leftover Chinese.’ It was… a riveting tale." 

With a huff, Darcy fell back to her bed. “That dickhead. Does that mean all my leftovers are gone?” 

Natasha chuckled before she walked away. “I hid a few egg rolls for you.” 

“ _I love you_ …” Darcy sang after her gratefully. 

"I know." 

Grinning, Darcy rolled over and buried her face in her pillow, only to dream of goldfish making off with her eggrolls.  _Assholes_.


	11. Darcy/Johnny, satanic starfish

Darcy didn’t so much as pause as she was walking down the hallway, papers in hand, saying simply, “I hope you get eaten by satanic starfish.” 

Johnny tossed his arms up. “C’mon, Darce, isn’t that a little harsh?” he asked, turning on his heel to follow her down the hallway.

"You cheated on me with my college roommate, _in my bed_ ," she reminded. "And when I caught you, you asked me to  _join_.” 

He shrugged, grinning at her brightly. “Can you really blame me for asking?”

"I can blame you for banging my roommate. Which I do. So, I say again,  _get eaten by satanic starfish_.”

"Y’know, in the world we live in today, that might not be too far off the mark…" Walking backwards down the hallway, he stared at her, brows hiked. "Do you really want those to be your last words to me?" 

Darcy sighed, coming to a halt in the hallway. “You’re right. I don’t.” 

He blinked, surprised, and then smirked. Hands on his hips, he asked, “Is that forgiveness I’m hearing?” 

"I don’t know. You tell me." Despite the fact that she knew she would have to fill out a  _lot_ of paperwork and Coulson would, no doubt, be giving her that judgmental face of his for ages to come, she didn’t so much as hesitate before throat punching him. 

As Johnny stumbled back, bent over and choking, she grinned at him. 

"Those starfish are lookin’ pretty good right now, huh Johnny-boy?" She patted his head as she walked past him, making her way down the hall. 

"Frisky," he croaked out, still struggling to breathe. 

Darcy rolled her eyes and wondered if her taser would do any damage to him the next time they met. With a shrug, she started toward Director Coulson’s office. Couldn’t hurt to try…


	12. Darcy & Jane, "Would you still love me if my nipple fell off?"

So, Jane was a little drunk. And by a little, she meant _a lot._

In Darcy’s opinion, this was Thor’s fault. Whenever he took the rainbow bridge home, Jane got mopey, and then, to battle the mopeyness, she got drunk, and dragged Darcy along for the ride. Only Darcy wasn’t allowed to get drunk, because she had to keep an eye on Jane, who was a sloppy,  _sloppy_ drunk. 

They caught a cab back to the tower, because no way in hell was Darcy going to try and hoof it. Jane might be small, but she was wiggly, and she didn’t like being restrained. This led to her squirming out of Darcy’s arms and meandering around aimlessly, talking boozy science. Boozy because there was a good chance it was super genius, but also an equally good chance it made no sense at all. 

On the elevator ride up to their apartment, Jane dropped her head to Darcy’s shoulder and let out a long, mournful, attention-seeking sigh. 

She knew she would regret asking, but she did it anyway, in part because Jane had already sighed  _three times_. “All right, what?” 

"Darcy, tell me the truth…" she whined.

"The truth about what? Is this about that slice of cheesecake you left in the fridge? I  _told_  you, I didn’t eat it, I threw it out. It was growing a  _colony_ , Jane. It was in there for ages. I was doing you a favor throwing it out; you never look at food before you eat it.” 

"No, no…" Jane paused. "But that cheesecake was beautiful and I wanted to eat it and you were so mean. You can’t just throw it away, Darcy. It has feelings too."

"No, it really doesn’t," she sighed. "Now what were you going to say before I brought up your cheesecake." 

"I wasn’t… But then… I was like…" Jane nuzzled her face against Darcy’s shoulder. "Darcy?" 

"Uh-huh?" 

"Would you still love me if my nipple fell off?" 

Darcy rolled her eyes. “This is the third time you’ve asked me that. I have no idea why you’re worried. Yes, I would still love you. And no, your nipple, as far as I know, is not going to fall off any time soon.” 

The elevator doors opened then and Darcy hauled Jane out, arm wrapped around her waist as she walked her down the hall toward their apartment door. 

"What if it did, though? What if it just…  _poof._  Y’know?” 

"What I know is that tequila is not your drink. Tequila makes you weird. And obsessive. Your nipples are fine, Jane. They’re still there, they’re not going anywhere, and even if they did, I’d still love you. Nipples or not, you’re still my best friend, all right?" 

"You’re so good to me…" Jane reached up and framed Darcy’s face in her hands, ignoring how she kept trying to shake her off as she struggled to get her key in the door. "You’re so squishy and pretty and the best assistant ever, did I ever tell you that?" 

"I’m sure you’ve mentioned it." 

"And nobody collates like you do or makes poptarts like you and you’re just the greatest, okay?"

"Okay," Darcy said, smiling even as she shook her head and swung the door open, ushering Jane inside.

Locking the door behind her, she helped her friend and boss to her bedroom, pausing at the bathroom to ask if she wanted to stop there first. Receiving a nod, she helped Jane into the bathroom and then left, keeping the door open a crack just in case and listened to Jane mutter to herself, something about stars and equations. 

"Darcy!" she cried, sudden and excited. 

Darcy tensed. “What? Are you okay? Do you need help?” 

"No, no, guess what?" 

"What?" 

"Chicken butt."

“ _Jane_ …” 

"No, no, but guess what?" 

"I swear to God…"

“ _Darcy_ ,” Jane whined. “ _Guess_.”

"I don’t know. Just tell me." 

"My nipples!" she exclaimed. "I found them. They’re totally fine. Still there and everything." 

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Great. Glad to hear. I was really concerned.” 

Jane giggled drunkenly. “That was close. I thought for sure I lost them at the bar.” 

“ _Yeah_ … ‘Cause that happens all the time.” 

A flushed toilet answered her and then the rushing sound of the tap turned on, followed by Jane humming off-key. 

When she finally walked out to meet Darcy, she grinned brightly and threw her arms around her neck. 

"You smell good," Jane told her. 

"Can’t say the same," she muttered back. "You stink of alcohol, sweat, and oncoming regret."

"We should cuddle. We should have a sleepover and talk about stuff. Okay?"

"Sure, Janey. We’ll have a girl’s night. You just have to put your pj’s on, okay?" 

"Mmhmm," she agreed, nodding sloppily. 

Darcy helped Jane into her room and dug out her favorite pajamas for her, leaving her sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning slightly, with her clothes within reach. Meanwhile, Darcy made her own way to her own room and changed out of her black cocktail dress and into a comfy pair of Black Widow themed pj’s.  

She pulled her hair up into a ponytail, scrubbed her face free of make-up and brushed her teeth before rejoining Jane, only to find her laying back on her bed, snoring loudly, her pajama pants around her knees and her shirt on backwards. It was a start, at least. 

With a snicker, Darcy helped Jane finish getting dressed, rolled her over in her bed, tucked her in, and put a garbage can nearby, just in case Jane started spewing.

Darcy climbed into Jane’s bed so she’d be close by if she needed her and turned out the lamp, wiggling under the covers. It didn’t take long for Jane to roll over and wrap herself around Darcy for the cuddles she’d wanted earlier, using Darcy’s chest as her pillow.

Amused, Darcy shook her head and closed her eyes. It wasn’t what she would call an awesome night off, not for her anyway, but it was nice to see Jane blow off some steam. Sure, she wished she’d had the same opportunity, but she was sure Jane would return the favor sometime in the future. As was the duty of a best friend. 


	13. Darcy and Tony [father/daughter team reveal]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **prompt** : "darcy is tony's daughter" - **anonymous** ( **[Tumblr](http://sarcasticfina.tumblr.com/)** )
> 
>  **warning** : AGE OF ULTRON SPOILERS!!!

Tony took a curious, and suspicious, look around what he’d deemed their supposed safe house. A large home built on an even larger farm. Not his usual slice of pie, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. He followed the team into the living room as Clint called out, “Honey, I’m home,” like they’d stepped out of a superhero film and into a sitcom. 

“Gentleman, this is Laura,” Clint introduced, looking between each of the Avengers, his arm around a noticeably pregnant brunette.

She smiled, waving at them as if this were a completely normal event, having the Avengers show up in her living room. “I know all your names,” she said with a faint laugh. 

Tony raised an awkward hand in hello. 

“Ooh, incoming.” Clint released her and moved forward as two children hurried into the room, bending to pick up the first, a girl with braided pigtails. “Hey, sweetheart.” He wrapped an arm around the taller boy’s neck and brought him closer to kiss the top of his head. “Hey, buddy. How’re you guys doing?”

The rest of the team shifted awkwardly, their surprise and confusion obvious.

“These are… smaller agents,” Tony said, trying to reconcile his idea of Clint with the picture in front of him.

“Did you bring Aunty Nat?” the small girl asked. 

“Why don’t you hug her and find out?” Natasha replied, moving forward to scoop the girl into her arms.

“Sorry we didn’t call ahead,” Steve said politely.

“Yeah, we were a little too busy not knowing you existed,” Tony added. “Just, for the record, since we’re  _apparently_ putting secret families on the table. I have a daughter.” He nodded as the others turned to stare at him in surprise. “I know. Impressive for my age. She’s twenty-four. Some of you have met her. She tased Thor. It was a thing. Which, by the way, I  _built_ that taser, so I should probably get some of the credit, like… twelve percent,  _at least_.” 

“Lady Darcy is your daughter?” Thor asked, his brow furrowed. 

“My eldest. My only. Well, unless you include JARVIS. Which, Darcy does. She thinks he’s my favorite. I maintain I love them both equally.” 

“She did not tell me of your relation…” 

“We don’t exactly spread it around. Anonymity is kind of important since she’s not so big on the whole fame and attention thing.” 

“Clearly something she picked up from her mother,” Steve muttered. 

Tony didn’t get a chance to reply before Thor continued, “You have raised a smart and formidable daughter, Stark. I do not call her Shield Sister lightly. I greatly admire her.” 

“Yeah, thanks, I’ll pass it on. Just, maybe in future, try not to involve her in the whole inter-dimensional war thing. I mean… dark elves? I didn’t even get a call until after, mostly to tell me not to freak out and maybe to send a cleaning crew over. Meanwhile, she’s hooking up with some fidgety British intern who I’m pretty sure turned out to be HYDRA.” He sighed, shaking his head. “You know, I tried not to interfere when she went into a soft science. Let her spread her wings until she realized the real fun was with building things. And  _just_  when she was starting to realize what a crap major she was in, you show up and introduce her to aliens. How am I supposed to compete with that? Huh? Anybody?” He looked around and then waved a dismissive hand. “Most of you are useless. Laura was it? We should talk.” 

Steve frowned. “Right. He took a look around at the others. “Anybody else have secret children we need to know about?” 

When the answer seemed to be a resounding no, he looked back to Clint to ask him how he’d managed to keep his family life a secret, since clearly Tony had enough resources to make it happen if he so chose. 

Speaking of… He wondered if Darcy had gotten his Code Red to go underground and stay there until she was given the all clear. He ground his teeth in worry, but tried to shake it off. Thor was right; his daughter was smart and formidable. More than that, she was resourceful. She would keep not only herself and Jane safe, but anybody else she deemed vulnerable too, animals included. He just hoped she stayed that way. 

In the meantime, he would do what he could to reverse what he’d done. He was sure when it was over, she’d join Pepper in ranting at his recklessness. Ah, family. Lucky wasn’t a strong enough word for what he was. 


	14. Darcy & Natasha: Why exactly do you need chloroform at 2AM?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “[Why exactly do you need chloroform at 2AM?](http://leidoscope.tumblr.com/post/114793840553)”

If Darcy could put “besties with Black Widow” on her resume, she would. Though, she was pretty sure it would land her somewhere around the 50/50 mark on a scale of ‘would help her get a job’ and ‘would get her blacklisted from ever applying for a job in the general vicinity of said place again.’ Eh. She would still proudly declare herself a friend of Natasha’s. Which was why she was  _not_ freaking out that the super spy was sleuthing around the medical office, which conveniently happened to be down the hall from Jane’s lab. 

Actually, they had one on every floor that housed scientists or anybody else likely to get injured while in Avengers Tower. Which, for the record, was like  _everybody_ , because the tower had a high injury rate. Darcy would know, she had a board that said “0 Day(s) Without an Injury” hanging on the wall beside her desk. She also ran a weekly pool on who was expected to get hurt that week. Tony wasn’t on the list, because he injured himself far too much. Playing with tools while maintaining a very erratic sleep schedule made him a liability to her gambling sensibilities. 

Anyway, so it was late, super late, and her favourite spysassin was totally stealing medical supplies. Not that she was going to tell on her. Darcy Lewis wasn’t no rat. She was, however, going to make sure said favourite wasn’t in need of help. Hey, sometimes theft was necessary. Like that time when she, a poor, ostracized street rat, needed to eat, and she stole a loaf of bread for her and her pet monkey to share and– All right, fine, so that was from Aladdin, but the point still stood.

“Do I need to arrange an intervention?” Darcy asked, leaning against the doorjamb. “I mean, another one. I already have one planned for Tony later this week. Did you get the memo for that? The only one who RSVP’d was Steve… Well, and Thor, but he mostly just yelled to me across the apartment that he would be ‘honored to partake in the intervention of Stark.’”

“I got the memo. And I’m pretty sure saying ‘who else wants to make sure Tony stops singing about Pina Colada’s and getting caught in the rain while dancing on the roof in his underwear’ is not an actual intervention plan.” 

“Ah, but you didn’t say it didn’t  _need_ intervention…” she said, brows hiked high.

Natasha’s lips did that faint quirk that they always did when Darcy managed to amuse her. It was something else she often considered putting on her resume. She wasn’t currently looking for a new job, but, well,  _aliens_ , and  _robots_ , so she was pretty sure that eventually the tower would one day get blown up or something equally intense and she would have to find a job somewhere that didn’t need a running tally on injuries.

“Oh, before I forget, you won the pool. Clint broke a finger on Thursday. He says it wasn’t because he fell into that dumpster when the fire escape betrayed him, but I have footage.“

“Didn’t Coulson tell you to stop hacking traffic cameras?” Natasha wondered, picking open another cabinet door. 

“Probably. He sends me a lot of emails that start with “ _Miss Lewis, it has come to my attention_ …’” She mimicked his exasperated, droll tone, and then grinned. “I usually stop reading at that point.” 

Natasha hummed, and then her eyes flashed as she pulled out a small, brown bottle, tapping her thumb against it in triumph before she closed the cabinet door. 

“So, not to poke a dead horse or whatever, but, why,  _exactly,_  do you need chloroform at 2 AM…?”

Natasha blinked at her. “Why does anyone?” 

“Good point.” Stepping out of the doorway, Darcy waited while Natasha flicked the light off, closed the door, and joined her in the hallway. “Just to be sure though, should I be worried at all?” 

Natasha smiled at her, slow and warm. “I’ll be fine,  _kotyonok_.”

Darcy nodded, and then slowed her steps as they neared Jane’s lab. “I’ve gotta feed Lady Science and then put her to bed. When you’re done chloroforming whoever, you should drop by. We can eat pizza, drink cheap beer, and pretend our lives are extraordinarily average in every way.”

Her lips twitched again. “Tomorrow? I’ll bring the beer.”

Darcy shot a finger gun, because she was just cool like that. “Deal.”

Natasha left then, chloroform in hand and questionable evening plans in action. With a shrug, Darcy walked back into the lab to find Jane in full on science mode. “Who wants Poptarts?”

Jane raised her hand, though her eyes stayed on the white board, and Darcy grinned. Sure, her life was weird, but it worked for her just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _kotyonok_ \- kitten


	15. Darcy/Matt: “Quick! Catch that cat! It stole my wallet!”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “[Quick catch that cat it stole my wallet!](http://leidoscope.tumblr.com/post/114793840553)”

Hell’s Kitchen is a loud place; between the people, constant construction, traffic, and various animals, there is a lot for him to sift through. He’s gotten good at it. ‘Good’ is his attempt at modesty. But there are times still, when his mind wanders or the noise overwhelms, or it becomes difficult to separate one stranger’s voice from another. They’re all just so  _clustered_ ; bodies moving to and fro, weaving around each other, like a knot that becomes difficult to unwind when there’s so much else going on. It’s easier at night, when the clutter break up; some go home, some wander the streets, some actually get to sleep at a decent hour. He laughs to himself at the very thought. 

Sleep is… difficult. Not only because of the noise. Sometimes he can block it out or break it down until it’s nothing more than a constant whistle, dim and at a distance, but there. No, sleep is elusive because the world is always moving. Time is constant, and mocking. The suit he has tucked away, waiting, tells him that his job isn’t done, may never be done. Just because Fisk is behind bars doesn’t mean that Hell’s Kitchen is completely safe. There will be more,  _others_ , and he’ll have to step up and fight them too. The uncertainty of who, of  _what_ , keeps him awake. The memory of what he’s already done, of a man who’d rather kill himself than face Fisk’s wrath; of a police officer committing suicide; of another police officer murdering his partner; of Elena Cardenas and Ben Ulrich and the other countless lives that were lost before him, during him, and after him. It would make it hard for anyone to sleep. 

So he hasn’t been sleeping, he’s on edge, and he keeps expecting someone to step up and fill Fisk’s shoes. If his plate is already full, the universe doesn’t recognize it.

There’s footsteps coming, quicker than the others around him. The slap of rubber on cement. A bag is bumping their hip, jostling textbooks (they’re heavier, louder than regular books), a tablet, and a single apple (golden delicious, he thinks). Their breathing is heavier; there’s a small indent between the top front teeth, he can hear a whistle there, quiet though it is. And hair, long hair, bouncing at their shoulders. The scent of shampoo (coconut) and body cream (vanilla and cinnamon) lilts toward him. 

"Quick! Catch that cat,” her voice shouts, "It stole my wallet!” 

The cat is weaving around legs effortlessly, ducking and bounding without problem. It’s thin, undernourished though there’s the faint smell of turkey on it’s breath, it’s overwhelmed by a stench that speaks of unwashed, clumped fur. There’s something else too; leather and money; thin, dirty paper soiled with the oily fingerprints of thousands of people. 

He bends at just the right moment, before it can lurch out of reach, and pins the cat down carefully by its shoulders. It won’t hurt him, but it’ll keep him from attacking. He’s wily; he squirms and hisses and sends his tail swiping around like it can lash him, force him to let go. Matt appreciates its spirit. 

The rubber soles of running shoes come to a stuttering stop, the clump of textbooks all slide forward against the bag she’s wearing; a thick fabric, built for carrying weight. She’s panting a little, and it sends the cherry scent of her chap stick wafting in his direction. She’s had coffee recently; light on sugar, heavy on cream. 

“Thanks,” she says, and kneels in front of him, reaching in front of the cat to pluck the wallet from his teeth; a watch at her wrist ticks calmly. “I don’t know who trained this guy, but he lifted my wallet right out of my bag… And to think, I tried to share some of my sandwich with him.” She clucks her tongue. “ _Judas_.” 

Matt laughs; the whole situation is strange, to be sure, but there’s something nice about it too. He releases the cat to bound off, in search of its owner, whoever that may be. “He probably felt bad about it. But he’s gotta think of his next meal. Can’t blame an empty stomach for thinking ahead.” 

“Yeah, well this girl needs to eat too. I have Mr. Noodle and frozen pizza to stock up on,” she informs him. 

His mouth curves up at the corner. “A healthy, balanced diet.” 

“Only the best for us poor college students.” She pushes on her knees to stand and he follows, his hand squeezing around the handle of his walking stick. She doesn’t offer hand like most people do, quick to acknowledge that he’s blind and do what they can to “alleviate the burden,” as it were. Instead, she hooks her fingers through the loops on her jeans and eyes him. He can feel the weight of her gaze even if he can’t see it. “ _So,_  you always save strangers from thieving cats or is this a break in your usual day?” 

“I can’t say this is how I usually meet people, no, but it’s not an unwelcome change,” he replies. 

“Smooth.” She smiles. “Can’t say I’m usually robbed by rogue felines either. But it breaks up the monotony.” 

“I suppose that’s all we can ask for.” 

“I don’t know, I think we should be able to ask for a little more…” She’s bold; he imagines she’s quick to debate in her classes, to raise her hand and argue with the teacher; to push when others tell her to pull. He likes it. "How about a coffee for the hero? I chased Scruffy McSmells A Lot for three blocks and you were the only one to try and help.” She waves her wallet; he can hear the change knock against each other (six quarters, eight dimes, three nickels). 

His life is hectic. He doesn’t sleep. He’s a vigilante at night and a lawyer by day. And if Claire taught him anything it’s that the life he leads is dangerous,  _too_ dangerous. Enough so that very few people can or will stick around for it. He doesn’t blame her, he gets it, and maybe it was meant to be a wake up call, a warning. If he were a good person –and he often wonders if he is, often questions his path and his actions and his choices– a better person would tell her no, would ask for a rain check he would never cash in on, would thank her but tell her it wasn’t necessary before blending in with the crowd, never to cross her path again. He’s not a better person. He’s… He doesn’t know what he is. He supposes that’s a question he’ll be asking for a very long time. Maybe Father Lantom can shed some light on that quandary. But later. For now…

“I’m Matt,” he says, holding a had out. “Matt Murdock.” 

“Darcy Lewis,” she answers, swinging her hand out to shake his. Her grip is firm and her skin is smooth. She’s left handed; he knows because there’s ink on the side of her left hand, no doubt from writing notes and then accidentally smearing them along the way. She wears a ring on her thumb, clunky and round; a mood ring, he thinks. He wonders what color it is currently. There’s a small skip of her heart, excitement or enthusiasm or nerves, maybe all three. She bites her lips and releases his hand, letting hers fall, gripping the strap of her bag. “So. Coffee?” She tips her head, and the beanie on top shifts against her hair. “I know a place, makes a wicked raspberry danish. You interested?”  

“Lead the way,” he says, mouth ticking up faintly. 

She smiles, ducks her head a little, and then moves to his side to start walking. He keeps step with her, listening to her heart and her breathing and the swipe of her tongue over her bottom lip whenever she turns her head, just slightly, and looks at him from the corner of her eyes. 

The coffee shop is a few blocks over; she spends it talking. Darcy has a degree in political science and she’s recently decided to go back to school. For what, she’s not sure, she’s just kind of testing the waters and seeing what fits. “I don’t know. I’ve seen some stuff, done some stuff, and now I’m just trying to figure out where I fit. World’s a big place, some of it’s good, some of it’s bad, I guess I’m wondering where that Darcy-shaped hole is, so I can fill it.” 

He hums, nodding, and reaches out to open the door of the coffee shop for her. She grins, reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear. And as they step forward, standing side by side as they wait in line, she turns to him, “What about you, Murdock? Where do you fit?” 

There’s a few ways to answer that. He fits behind a desk in an office that needs a lot of repairs, and even more more clients. He fits on the rooftops overlooking Hell’s Kitchen, dressed in red and black, ready and waiting to help. He fits in a courtroom, asking the hard questions, convincing juries and judges of difficult decisions.

What he says to her instead is, “Right now… I think I fit right here.”

She’s biting her lip again, and blood rushes to her cheeks. Her knuckles brush his. There’s a small scar on the third one in; he wonders what the story is there. He decides he’s going to find out.


	16. Darcy & Jane: “So why did I have to punch that guy?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “[So why did I have to punch that guy?](http://leidoscope.tumblr.com/post/114793840553)”

For the record, Darcy wouldn’t say she was a particularly violent person. In fact, she would say that she only applies violence to situations that call for it. Like when seemingly drunken dudes two or three times her size are shouting angrily and coming at her. Sure, that particular dude turned out to be an alien prince who is now her bro, but she didn’t know that at the time. So, to reiterate, she is not a violent person unless violence is called for. 

That said, when she’s relaxing in a bar that she and Jane both frequent when she can tear her away from  _science,_ and Jane turns to her and says, “ _Destroy him_ ,” Darcy feels her reaction is totally justified. After all, her boss/friend is a PhD rocking astrophysicist who would not ask for her assistance unless she had good reason. 

So Darcy drops her beer to the bar counter, turns toward the guy Jane is motioning to, plants her feet, nods her chin at him, and balls her fist up just like her mother taught her (don’t tuck your thumb under your fingers unless you want to break it). She cold-clocks the nameless man in front of her, watches calmly as he falls to the floor, out like a light, and then shakes her hand out. Yeah, she was going to need to put some ice or frozen peas on that later. 

Turning to Jane then, she asks, “So, why did I have to punch that guy…?” 

Jane, looking righteously indignant with her hands on her hips and her chin lifted high, tells her, “He put something in my drink. I  _saw_ him. I turned away for  _one_ second and…” She shakes her head, her shoulders pulled high as the possibilities of what could have happened rush through her. She turns to Darcy, her mouth open, like she wants to put a voice to it, but she’s not quite sure how. 

Darcy looks back to the man on the floor, her jaw set and her eyes narrowed. With a nod, she turns around, grabs her purse, and pulls out two permanent markers. She hands one to Jane, who acknowledges it for what it is, and they each bend down next to their enemy. 

“We’re calling the cops after this,” Darcy tells her. “And if they don’t do something, then I guarantee Natasha will find a deep, dark hole to put him in.”

Jane nods. “Agreed,” she says, as she draws a penis on his forehead.

So, like Darcy said, she’s not a naturally violent person, but… when a situation calls for it, she reacts appropriately.


	17. Darcy/Thor: “I may have accidentally sort of adopted five cats.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “[I may have accidentally sort of adopted five cats](http://leidoscope.tumblr.com/post/114793840553).”

See, the problem with having an alien boyfriend that lives in a different realm is that his visits can be super sporadic, meaning he could be around for a day or a week or a month, and then gone for just as long, or longer. And Darcy, well, she gets lonely. 

She loves Thor. She really does. They’ve been doing this relationship thing for over a year now. And sure, the whole long-distance, different realm thing is hard. It’s not like they have Skype for inter-realm dating. But they make it work. He does his princely thing there and then he comes back and does the super doting, make up for lost time, boyfriend thing. And for the most part, Darcy’s down with that. She’s an independent person who has work and friends and plenty to keep her busy. But she gets used to having him around her apartment and in her bed and she misses being close to someone at night, so she finds a good compromise point.

The first cat Darcy gets is eight years old and the grumpiest fluff-ball she has ever seen in her life. She names him Nicholas Furry (Nick-Nick more often than not), because she’s pretty sure he’s the feline manifestation of Fury’s personality. She actually finds him outside Avengers Tower, nosing around a garbage can for scraps. He hisses and spits at her, and she falls in love. She has to have him shaved, because his long fur is clumped together everywhere from the shoulders down. He looks like he has a little lion mane afterwards and not one he likes. In the end, he settles into her apartment like he owns the place, wiggling under the blanket to bite at her feet each morning when he wants her to get up and feed him. 

Things are good for a while. It’s just her and Nick-Nick, doing their thing. But Nick-Nick isn’t a cuddler. He squirms and growls and she has more than a few scars from him making it very clear that he does not want to be picked up. But he’s hers, so she’s not getting rid of him. Still, she needs a cuddle buddy, and Jane has made it clear that she only wants to cuddle when she’s drunk. So, rather than encouraging alcohol dependency, Darcy soon finds herself lingering outside an animal shelter, debating whether Nick-Nick would take better to a dog or a cat. She goes inside just to take a look, to get an idea of what she wants and maybe even in hopes that it will change her mind and she’ll just learn to be happy with what she has. 

She ends up falling in love with  _two_ cats and though she knows she’s going to regret it, she finds herself paying the fee and signing up to take them home in one week’s time. A brother and sister duo, they’re both orange, but one has a white patch under his nose that legitimately looks like a handlebar mustache. She names him Dugie in honor of Dum-Dum Dugan and his epic facial hair choices. Dugie’s sister is a lighter shade of orange, and she always seems to be meowing, constantly demanding attention and affection. Darcy names her Lovebug, a name she will always live up to. 

Nick-Nick is none too keen on his new roommates. For the first week, he pretends he doesn’t even know they’re there. Although he does eat his  _and_ their food, so she’s pretty sure he’s trying to make a point. Dugie doesn’t seem to care; his only concern is finding the highest point in any room and sitting on it so he can lord over everyone. She’s only a little worried one day he’s going to dive-bomb her… Maybe more than a little. Unsurprisingly, Clint loves him, and takes to calling him Hawkcat. 

Lovebug doesn’t take Nick-Nick’s dismissal at face value. She follows him everywhere, forcing him to cuddle and play. Darcy returns home from work one afternoon to find Nick-Nick cleaning Lovebug; he stops mid-lick of her head, caught red-handed, and Darcy laughs, scratching him between his ears. 

“No going back now, buddy,” she tells him, and she knows he can’t sigh, but she’s pretty sure his face is resigned as he drops his head on top of Lovebug’s. 

Darcy is a hundred percent sure she doesn’t need anymore cats. She’s got three of varying cuddle modes. 

Nick-Nick: no cuddling unless explicitly demanded. 

Dugie: bedtime cuddling only. 

Lovebug: always cuddling, no exceptions. 

So Darcy’s got her hands full, almost as much as the litter box, in fact. Thor hasn’t been back from Asgard yet, but she’s already thinking of ways she can endear her new buddies to him. He loves animals, he’s just probably not used to living with three of them. He’ll get over it though. She has faith that her pets will win him over. 

The fourth cat kind of blindsides her. A friend of hers is moving into a new apartment, mostly because she can’t afford the one she’s in, and the new place doesn’t take pets. Anita’s cat, Buckles, is like thirteen years old, which means if she goes into a shelter, she probably won’t find a home to live out the rest of her days. Buckles is the grandma of all cats. She never runs anywhere, she just kind of shuffles along until she gets where she wants to be. She doesn’t so much meow as she does chuff at people and she’s content to spend most of her time just laying in the window, soaking up sun. Darcy takes one look at her, thinks on it all of five minutes, and then says, “So what kind of food does she eat…?” 

Buckles settles in fine. She doesn’t play with Lovebug, but she lets her sleep curled up against her stomach. She and Nick-Nick seem to get along best. If they could talk, she thinks they’d be one those cranky old couples that always find something to complain about. Darcy’s content to let them be. 

“Don’t you think you’re getting a little overrun?” Jane wonders one day, as she sits in the living room, taking in the veritable cat jungle that Darcy’s apartment has become. There are plastic balls with bells inside them, catnip fish, feathers on a stick, a pop up tunnel, and a scratch post jungle gym just in view of where she’s sitting. There’s also a disproportionate amount of cat hair on everything. Darcy vacuums daily to combat it, but she’s pretty sure the fur is winning. 

“Nah, they’re all pretty chill, half of them don’t even like to cuddle most of the time. They do their thing, I do mine.” 

“Right, but…” Jane frowns. “Four is a lot of cats.” 

“What’re you trying to say Jane, hm? Are you suggesting I’m a cat lady? Because that’s offensive, to both ladies and cats!” she declares, maybe more dramatically than necessary.

Jane rolls her eyes. “No, I’m just saying that, well, maybe, if you’re really this lonely, you should  _say_ something instead of just manifesting your feelings into feline adoption…” 

“Wow, way to cut me deep, Boss-lady.” 

Ladybug hops into her lap then, walks a circle around her legs, kneading at her through her jeans, and then flops down and stares up expectantly, waiting to be worshiped. Darcy acts accordingly. 

Sighing with exasperation, Jane shakes her head. “Fine, don’t take me seriously, but remember this later.”

“I will put it on a sticky note for future discussion,” Darcy agrees, giving in to the urge to pet Ladybug’s stomach, and then sighing as her cat betrayed her, clawing at her hand and biting her fingers, all the while staring up at her with those wide, innocent eyes. It’s her own fault; she knew what would happen and she did it anyway.  _Alas_. The curse of a cat owner. 

The fifth cat isn’t even hers. She’s pure white, has three legs and one eye and Darcy just kind of comes home one day to find her sitting on Darcy’s coffee table. JARVIS informs Darcy that the cat’s name is Winter and she is Bucky Barnes new companion, but he was called away for an emergency mission. He couldn’t find her to ask if she’d take care of his cat while he was away, but since he’d heard from Steve and Clint that she had a veritable cat hostel going on in her apartment, he figured he’d take his chances and apologize later. 

With a sigh, Darcy approaches Winter, who eyes her warily before apparently deciding she is not an enemy and becoming her shadow for the next three weeks that Bucky is away. She literally follows Darcy everywhere, meowing mournfully when Darcy kicks her out of the bathroom so she can pee and shower and whatever else she needs to do. Winter and Lovebug start off on the wrong foot, unhappy that they have to share her, but eventually just to decide to split her evenly between them. Bucky eventually drops by to pick his cat up, but they make a deal that she’ll take him whenever he needs to take off for work, so Winter becomes a common visitor at her place, and she names herself an honorary aunt. 

Most nights, Darcy falls asleep with Winter on her pillow, her head resting on Darcy’s hair; Lovebug curled up on her lower back; Dugie sitting on a floating shelf where he’d purposely knocked a decorative candle from so he could commandeer the space for himself; and Nick-Nick and Buckles at either corner of the bottom end of the bed. There is no possible way for her to feel lonely. 

By the time Thor returns, Darcy has settled in. She spends more time cleaning litter boxes and vacuuming than she ever wanted to, but she loves her little fuzzballs, so she copes. JARVIS doesn’t inform her that Thor is home, because apparently he wanted to surprise her. She’s not sure who is more surprised when she walks into the apartment to find Thor sitting on the floor in the living room, being used as human jungle gym as her cats coil themselves around his arms and legs and, in Winter’s case, bury herself under his hair. 

Darcy blinks, her mouth slack. When he looks up at her, an eyebrow raised, she blurts, “So, true story, I may have accidentally, sort of, adopted five cats…” 

Thor laughs, warm and amused, and shakes his head. “And how,  _exactly_ , does one accidentally acquire so many feline companions…?” 

“Well…” She takes off her bag and shucks it onto the kitchen table, kicking her shoes off as she makes her way toward him. “It’s kind of a long story. But basically, I have this awesome boyfriend, right? Handsome, smart, fantastic in bed…”

He laughs, the rough noise sending a shiver down her back, but she tries to stay focused. 

“Unfortunately, he has the weight of like, nine realms on his shoulders, so he’s got a lot on his plate and he can’t always be home to cuddle me…” 

She stops in front of him, bending to remove a chuffing Buckles from Thor’s lap, and replaces him with herself, curling her legs around his waist and resting her hands on his broad shoulders. His arms wind around her to keep her steady and she smiles up at him. 

“So, I, in all my  _vast_ wisdom, decided to get a cuddle buddy to keep me warm at night and, next thing you know, I’ve got five… Can’t blame me though, boyfriend leaves some pretty big shoes to fill when he’s away.” 

Thor’s expression is tender, his eyes affectionate. He rubs his hands up her back and tells her, “I’m sorry. I was away longer than I’d planned. It’s a lot to ask, that you spend so much time waiting. If I could lessen the toll, I would.” 

Darcy shrugs. “I get it. I get that what you’re doing is important and you’re needed and I’m not even upset about it. I just… I don’t know. I miss you and, well, these guys helped with that.” 

He nods. “Then they are welcome to share our home.” 

He leans forward, resting his forehead against hers, and she sighs, sinking into it. She inhales deeply, taking in the scent of him, like cool rain on a warm day, and she revels in the heat coming off his body and coiling around hers. His fingers slide up and down her back, the heavy weight of his palms soothing, and she knows, in a few minutes, she’s going to be dragging him to their room to get reacquainted, sans clothes, but for right now, this is nice. This is what she really missed. Just having him there, holding him, being held by him. 

“I missed you too,” he murmured, his voice deep and gentle.

She smiles and tips her head up, pressing her lips to his in a slow, lingering, welcome home kiss. His hand move up, fingers tangling in her hair, cradling her neck and drawing her closer. 

There’s a tap at her arm, Lovebug wanting attention, and Winter pops her head out from behind Thor’s hair to meow, feeling neglected. Buckles and Nick-Nick have each settled on the window sill and the armchair respectfully. And Dugie is lazily sprawled across the top of a bookshelf. 

Thor laughs as he pulls back from her, and reaches over his shoulder to scrub his fingers over Winter’s head, amused when she catches one with her paws and tries to bite at it. 

Darcy lets Lovebug crawl into her lap, taking up the small space between her and Thor, and rubs her hand down the length of her. Thor’s free arm is still around Darcy, fingers lightly massaging her neck. And she’s happy. With her five cats and her alien boyfriend and her life in general. She’s just  _happy_.


	18. Darcy & Wanda: “What did they do to you?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “[What did they do to you?](http://amusewithaview.tumblr.com/post/127443113385/post-trauma-sentence-meme-angst)”

“What did they do to you?”

Wanda startles from where she’s sitting in a corner, knees pulled up to her chest. She sniffles, stiffening as she wipes at the tears steaming down her cheeks. Her vulnerability is on display and she does not like it one bit.

A woman, short, brunette, with fire in her eyes, stands a few feet away, righteous indignation flowing all around her like it has its own special energy. “You all right?” 

Wanda considers the question. At face value, no, she is not all right. Her brother is dead, the life she’d known is gone, the world as she saw it is not as simple as it had once been. And she’s not quite sure what she’s doing or whether it’s the right thing to do. “I am living in the tower of the man I spent half my life hating,” she says. “I have lost my brother to a terrorist that I once called ally. I have no friends, no family, no direction, and I am…” Her lips tremble, tears falling once more. “I am  _alone_.” 

Anger flees the young woman quickly, replaced with–  _pity?_  No. Empathy. She crosses the space between them and takes a seat next to her, close enough that their shoulders bump. “We all feel that way sometimes. It’s better when you have someone to let you know you’re not.” She holds a hand out, palm up. “I’m Darcy. You want some company?” 

Wanda stares at the hand of a stranger. Of a woman who knows nothing about her, offering her comfort and friendship and relief from her pain. Emotion, thick and clawing, fills her throat. Her hand shakes when she places it in Darcy’s. “I am Wanda,” she tells her, eyeing her a moment as she waits for realization to hit, and the hand to quickly retract. 

But Darcy hums, nodding. “Yeah. I kinda figured.” She folds her fingers in between Wanda’s and holds on tightly. “You want to talk about it?” 

She considers the question, and then shakes her head a little. “Not really.”

Darcy nods. “Okay.” She leans her head back against the wall and gently rubs her thumb along the back of Wanda’s hand. “Okay.”

And slowly, Wanda mimics her pose, holding tight to her hand, relaxing into the comfort of having someone there. It could be minutes or hours, but the soothing silence begins to take her. Her eyes grow heavy and her head tilts, falling to rest against Darcy’s in their quiet moment. She knows she should pull back, that she shouldn’t fall asleep here or let her guard down. But it’s nice, the warmth of acceptance, and she finds herself drifting. Thoughts of Pietro and how he was always close, always supporting her, a steady pillar at her side, make her tired and sad. 

“It’s okay,” Darcy says, her voice little more than a whisper. “I’ve got you.” 

Her eyes close, and she decides that when she wakes, there will be more moments like these, more moments with Darcy. She looks forward to it.


	19. Darcy & Jane, “How long has that been bleeding?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “[How long has that been bleeding?](http://amusewithaview.tumblr.com/post/127443113385/post-trauma-sentence-meme-angst)”

“How long has that been bleeding?”

Darcy huffed out a pained laugh, her hand pressed against her side. “Too long. Which should always be the answer to that question, just FYI.”

Jane frowned, double checking that there was nobody coming before turning back to her. “Darcy, why didn’t you  _say_ anything?” 

“Because we’re in the middle of escaping a hostage situation. We don’t have time for minor bullet wounds!” 

Jane shook her head, taking off her plaid button up and then tearing off the bottom of her t-shirt. “Yeah, and what were you going to do when you collapsed from blood loss?” 

“I was mostly hoping I’d  _at least_ get out…” she admitted. “After that I was hoping you’d have some kind of adrenaline rush, like those moms do when their kids are in danger, and like, carry me.”

Balling up her button-up, Jane moved Darcy’s hand and pressed it to her side. She tied her shirt around it and knotted it. Tucking her arm around Darcy to keep her steady, she looked her in the eye. “We do this together. No more hiding wounds. We’re getting out of here, you and me.” 

Darcy looked up at her, letting her fear and pain bleed into her face. “You got it, boss,” she choked out. 

“C’mon.” Jane started forward. “We’re getting out of this hell hole and getting you medical attention. And then we’re coming back and blowing these assholes off the planet.” Her eyes were bright with vengeance. “Think they can just kidnap me and steal my science,  _hah_.” 

Darcy blinked, and then smirked. “Deal.”


	20. darcy & tony [father/daughter, darcy's surprise date]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What the hell are you wearing?”

“What the hell are you wearing?” 

Darcy looked down at herself, frowned, and then said, “Looks like a dress to me, pops. You need your eyes checked?” She tipped her head up. “J-man, schedule an eye exam for dad.” 

“ _Of course, Miss Darcy. How does this Saturday sound?_ ” 

“Cancel that,” Tony said, waving dismissively. “That's not just a dress, that is a  _date_ dress.”

“I didn’t realize you were so big into fashion...” Darcy turned to a mirror hanging on the wall beside her to double check her lipstick; hot rod red, because it added an extra layer of hilarity to this situation. “In fact, considering you had a velvet suit phase, I’m not sure you get to comment...” 

“I had a lot of phases. I’m currently in a ‘protective dad who doesn’t think his daughter should date phase.’ In fact, I have protocols for this. JARVIS, what’s the ‘Darcy has heart eyes, make them stop’ protocol?” 

“ _I believe it involves a lie about incoming nuclear attack and a bomb shelter, sir_.  _You were watching ‘Blast from the Past’ and thought it an advantageous epiphany. Alcohol may have been involved._ ” 

“Right.” He snapped his fingers. "I like that one.” 

“What? No chastity belt?” Darcy snorted before turning on her heel to raise a brow at her father. She crossed the space between them, licked her thumb, and wiped away a grease smudge on his forehead. 

He wiggled and complained, but still let her clean it away. 

“This whole worried thing you’ve got going on, it’s only cute for the first five minutes, then I have to point out that I’m an adult who can make her own choices and that you trying to control me will only push me away.” Dropping her hands to his shoulders, she gave him a little shake. “Don’t look so worried. I have way better taste in partners than you did. Y’know, pre-Pepper.” 

“There was no pre-Pepper. We don’t talk about those times,” he denied, shaking his head. “There is only  _Pepper_.” 

“Uh-huh. Well, I skipped the non-existent pre-Pepper phase and went straight to the top.” 

“ _Miss Darcy, I believe your date is here._ ” 

“Thanks, J.” She pinchedTony’s cheek and then walked past him toward the elevator.

“What? No.” He whirled to follow after her. “No, he isn’t, because Darcy doesn’t date. Remember? There are non-date things that could be happening. Like welding. And... uh, JARVIS, help me out here.” 

“ _Apologies, sir, but I have been asked politely not to encourage you.”_

 _“_ Traitor,” Tony muttered before scurrying ahead and standing in front of the closed elevator doors, his arms spread out. “Listen, dating isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Who needs romance in their lives when you can build robots and topple government agencies for fun? Stay in, we’ll crack open a bottle of vintage bourbon and mess with SHIELD. You  _love_ messing with SHIELD.” 

Darcy smirked at him, and then reached past to hit the button on the elevator. 

The doors opened behind him and he cringed before, very slowly, turning his head to see who stood behind him. He breathed out a sigh of relief to find Natasha staring back at him, a semi-judgmental eyebrow raised. “Oh.  _See_. No date. Just the lying liar, spy pants on fire.” 

“Not your best insult,” Darcy said, rolling her eyes before she ducked under his arm and into the elevator. “Ready?” 

Natasha smiled, look her over slowly. “Nice dress.” 

Darcy’s cheeks flushed as she smoothed a hand down her hip. “Thanks, it’s brand new.” She stretched a leg out to show off her heels. “You didn’t say where we were going, so I have flats in my purse too.” 

“It’s a surprise, and you won’t get any details out of me.” 

Darcy grinned. “Doesn’t mean I won’t try.” 

Tony made a choking noise, drawing their eye. 

With a laugh, Darcy leaned forward, popped a kiss on his cheek and said, “Don’t wait up.”

“I... You...” The elevator doors began to close. “ _Her!?”_

Natasha smirked back at him.

As she and his daughter disappeared from view, he turned around, his eyes wide. “JARVIS?” 

“Sir?” 

“Bring up the schematics on the bomb shelter... It’ll need to be reinforced.  _Heavily_.” 

If JARVIS could sigh, that was exactly what he would have done.


	21. darcy & clint: “Who crawls through someone’s window at 4 am to go for ice cream?!”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Who crawls through someone’s window at 4 am to go for ice cream?!”

“Who crawls through someone’s window at 4 am to go for ice cream?!” 

Clint blinked at her. “If I brought the ice cream with me it would’ve melted.” 

“That’s  _so_ not the point,” she complained, rubbing a hand over her face. Ugh, was that  _drool_ crusted at the corner of her mouth? How pleasant. “What’re you even doing up right now? What possessed you to get up and come over her and suggest ice cream, of all things?” 

He shrugged. “I just finished debrief and still have some excess energy to burn.” He grabbed up a piece of paper from her desk and started fashioning it into an airplane. “You’re the only one I know who doesn’t mind late night ice cream runs.” 

“This is not ‘late night.’ This is early,  _early_ morning. It’s like, evil o’clock in the morning. You do not wake someone up at 4 am unless they have like, a plane to catch and they need to be at the airport by a certain time. And even then, you should be prepared to have an alarm clock thrown at your head.” 

Leaning back as he sat on the edge of her dresser, he merely quirked an eyebrow and let the paper airplane fly, floating through a basketball net he’d personally hung on her bedroom door for this exact reason. Sometimes, especially at times like these, she asked herself why she befriended him. 

“So I was thinking chocolate brownie explosion with sprinkles...” 

Darcy groaned, burying her face against her pillow for a long moment. But after a good thirty seconds, she turned over, threw her blanket aside and said, “You’re buying.” 

Okay, so maybe she knew why she befriended him. And if she had to be up for anything at 4 am, ice cream seemed like a good option. “I want strawberry. With chocolate chips. And marshmallows. Ooh, and whipped cream...” 

Clint merely grinned, unsurprised, and handed her a sweater to put over her pajamas.   

 


	22. darcy/matt: "I can't stand the thought of losing you."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I can't stand the thought of losing you."

“I can’t stand the thought of losing you.” 

Matt’s hand catches around her wrist and feels her pulse racing; he can hear her heart, but he prefers to feel it. There’s a cloth clutched in her hand, he can smell the soap and the cotton threads, and the old, chipped nail polish she’s wearing underneath it all. She’s kneeling in front of him in just her pajamas, a pair of his boxers and a tank top with a faded band logo; it’s her favorite. There’s a tear on the left side; the threads pull whenever she moves.  She folds the cloth and carefully dabs at a wound over his eyebrow, biting her lip in sympathy. 

He lets out a heavy breath and tells her, “You’re  _not_ going to lose me.” 

Darcy shakes her head. “You can’t promise that.” 

He sighs, because that’s true, he can’t. Every night he goes out, he knows he’s risking his life, risking every part of himself, but not going out isn’t an option. He’s not sure it ever was or could be. “I can promise I’ll put up a hell of a fight.” He offers a smile, hopes it might break the tension or relieve it even a tiny bit. 

Instead, her lips tremble and she purses them to hide it. “Fighting is what you do, and I get that. I knew that walking into this. But...” She stares at him, at the yellowing bruise on his cheek where her fingers hover,  the split in his lip that he can feel clotting, the blood still trickling from the wound on his forehead. “I don’t know. I don’t... I thought it’d be easier. I thought I could handle it. But every time you come home, every time I see you like this, I just...” She rubs her forearm over her face and blinks back tears; he can smell the salt. “There are nights you go out and I wonder if you’ll come  _back_.” Her voice cracks and he tenses at the sound. “I wonder what I’ll do if you don’t. If I’ll see your face on the morning news. If... If I’ll get a call from Foggy that you were found downtown somewhere. And I... I don’t want to lose you, Matt.” 

He reaches for her, hands steady on her shoulders. He feels her shaking, the fine tremble that rocks her, and he slides his hands very slowly up the slopes of her neck, her skin is soft, there’s a specific lotion she uses, he likes how subtle the scent is. He tips her head back so she’s looking at him, wipes a tear with his thumb. 

“I have to do this. It’s who I am. It’s not pretty and it’s not easy and there are going to be close calls.” He can’t, won’t, lie to her. “I don’t want to hurt you, Darcy. I don’t want to put you through that. And it’s not fair to you to constantly worry about me.” 

His breath catches in his throat then, because this feels like goodbye. This feels like that moment with Claire, when they ended before they really began. Only he and Darcy had begun, they’d more than begun, and he doesn’t want it to end. He doesn’t want to walk away. But he doesn’t want to hurt her either. And when it comes to who will win, he knows the devil will always overshadow everything else. Maybe it’s a sign, a reminder that good things only burn around him. 

“I know that. I  _know_.” She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment and then shakes her head. “I’m allowed to worry and to have moments where I doubt things. It’s normal. Or at least I think it is, there’s not exactly a handbook out there for how to be a vigilante’s girlfriend. But... I do. I worry and I panic and I plan for the worst. And then you come home and it... It gets a little better. Until tomorrow night, when I do it all over again. I just... I  _need_  you to know that I’m here and I-- I  _love_ you and I don’t want to lose you. So just... Yeah, fight, fight really, really hard, and then... come home. ‘Cause I’m waiting. And I’m not going anywhere until you do.” 

He swallows thickly, considers telling her maybe it’d be smarter, better for her, to walk away. But he’s selfish. He needs her and wants her and loves her. So he kisses her, pulls her into his lap despite the way his ribs protest, and he wraps his arms around her, face buried in the soft scent of her neck, and he holds on tight. 

And maybe one day she won’t be there. Maybe one day she won’t wait for him to drag his battered body back home. But today she has and tomorrow she will.   He’ll count ever day after as a blessing. 


	23. darcy & betty, tony & bruce: sisters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Question... Why, exactly, does Foster’s intern keep glaring at you?”

“ _Question!_ ” 

Bruce doesn’t even flinch as Tony pops up next to him, without warning and louder than ever. He’s far too used to it at this point. Laying his newspaper down on the table, he raises a brow. “Yes?” 

Tony slides into the seat next to him. “Why,  _exactly_ , does Foster’s intern keep glaring at you?” 

Bruce turns his head subtly, sees Darcy standing in the community kitchen, pouring herself a mug of coffee and willing murder unto him with her eyes. 

“Oh. Uh...” He shifts his gaze away and winces. “That’s complicated.” 

Tony chokes, a noise that is entirely too excited. “You and Lewis?” He sounds positively giddy and Bruce barely keeps from rolling his eyes. “Isn’t she a little young for you? Not that I’m judging. I mean, she’s...” he trails off meaningfully

His hand flexes on the mug he’s holding, because yes, they have a history, and not a pretty one, but he does care about her. Just not in the way Tony is implying. He’s known Darcy since she was a little girl, running around their lab, getting into things, snarking at anyone that paid her any attention, sleeping under his desk when she wore herself out. She’d been like a sister to him. In fact, once upon a time, he thought she’d be his sister officially. 

To Tony, he says, “It’s not like that.” 

“Right. Sure. Of course.” Tony nods, not the least bit convinced. 

With a sigh, he flicks his eyes back to Darcy, who is angrily unwrapping Poptarts to shove into a toaster. And tossing him dark looks in between, as if somehow he is to blame for the fact that the wrapper gets stuck to the sleeve of her sweater or the toaster won’t stay down long enough to do much of anything.

With a long suffering sigh, he says, “I knew her sister. A long time ago.” 

“Lewis has a sister?” He doesn’t wait for Bruce to reply, instead he shouts across the room. “You got a sister, Lewis?” 

Darcy’s lip curls in a sneer. “Yes. I do. A brilliant sister. Who is smart and gorgeous and could dance circles around both of you in all things science. She, unlike you guys, knows how to act like a  _normal_ person and regulate herself so she doesn’t spiral into science benders ever other week, all while still managing to be productive.” 

She yanks the Poptarts out, ignoring how they burn her fingers, and slaps them down on a plate. “She’s also super hot and can do a lot better than some jerk who thinks he knows what’s best for her and doesn’t respect her enough to let her make her own damn decisions.” 

Taking her coffee and her Poptarts, she whirls around to leave. She’s a few steps away before she stops, turns back around, and says, “And your hair is  _stupid!_ ”

Bruce winces as she leaves, stomping all the way and muttering unkindly under her breath. 

“My hair is  _not_ stupid,” Tony says defensively. 

And Bruce laughs, a little bitterly, he’ll admit. “Darcy is  _Betty’s_ half-sister. And she’s a little...  _protective_ of her.” 

“Protective?” Tony snorts. “Listen, I know we’re operating under the assumption that the Hulk can’t be killed, but...” His eyes dart around a moment before he leans in. “I’d keep an eye out. She looked like she was willing to go toe-to-toe with either side of you. And, frankly, I’ve seen her her go up against Thor, so I wouldn’t count her out.” 

Bruce smiles tiredly and shakes his head. “She’s upset, and I understand why. But what happened between Betty and I... It was necessary. She’s better off with out me.”

Tony hums, and then stands from the table. “Yeah, well, you know what they say.... The road to hell and all that.” 

As he walks off to the kitchen to deposit his coffee cup in the sink, Bruce sighs to himself. “Is paved with good intentions.”


	24. Darcy & Jane: “I’d die for you. Of course, I’d haunt you in the afterlife but really, it’s the thought that counts."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “[I’d die for you. Of course, I’d haunt you in the afterlife but really, it’s the thought that counts](http://sarcasticfina.tumblr.com/post/128760416112)." ([x](http://leidoscope.tumblr.com/post/128635221443))

“I’d die for you. Of course, I’d haunt you in the afterlife but really, it’s the thought that counts."

Jane rolled her eyes. “Nobody’s going to die.” 

“Listen, that sounded convincing, but you once forcibly drove us  _into_ a storm... where we ran over an alien... I’m not putting anything past you.” 

“ _Darcy_...” 

“We’re in the middle of nowhere, tracking something you won’t give me the specifics of. You made us ditch the jack-booted thugs that were  _supposedly_ keeping us safe, and the thing with the whatsits keeps beeping ominously. So, I’m just saying, if something goes sideways, I will throw myself on the proverbial bomb to save your science-loving life. I do expect you to name some giant discovery after me though. Just saying. Make my mom proud.” 

“You mom hates me. She calls weekly to tell you that assisting me is going to get you killed. I don’t think naming anything after you is going to make her proud if it resulted from your  _death_.” 

Darcy shrugged. “Okay, so don’t kill us then.” 

“Nobody is going to die!” Jane shouted. 

A bright light suddenly filtered down from the sky like a homing beacon then, and landed on them. 

Darcy went still, turning her eyes toward Jane slowly. “You were saying?” 

A voice reached out to them then, “ _Doctor Foster, this is Maria Hill, Deputy Director of SWORD... You are in a restricted area_...” 

“Who knew helicopters could be so quiet...” Darcy blinked up at the floating object. “Actually, you know what, that’s totally a UFO. And worse, it’s SWORD, SHIELD’s slightly less sketchy step-brother. We’re going to have to go through debrief and paperwork and  _ugh_... I wanted a heroic death. Not death by boredom.” 

Jane snorted. “Still want a science discovery named after you?” 

“Hell yeah. Don’t even truss it up and make it sound cool either. Just call it DARCY, all caps, so everyone struggles to figure out the non-existent acronym. It’ll be great. What a legacy.” 

As the UFO landed and a few gun-toting agents hopped out, Darcy threw her hands up and said, “Put your measuring tapes away, she’ll come peacefully.” 

Jane rolled her eyes as she stepped up beside her. “ _She_?”

Darcy shrugged. “I plan on making a ruckus.” 

With a sigh, Jane strode forward, smiling in amusement as Darcy got louder and louder behind her. 


	25. darcy/natasha: "are you ticklish?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "[Are you ticklish?](http://leidoscope.tumblr.com/post/128635221443)"

“Are you ticklish?”

Natasha looked up from her morning tea to raise an eyebrow. “Would you like to find out?” 

Darcy, seated next to her at the, otherwise empty, breakfast bar in the communal kitchen, tipped her head thoughtfully, her eyes narrowed. “Would it end with me in medical...?” 

With a slow, suggestive smirk, Natasha said, “Not if you do it right.” 

Brows hiked, Darcy turned herself to face her a little better. “Okay. Just so no lines are getting crossed here, that was a really smooth come on, right? I mean, I’m not going to die if I start flirting back? Because, I’m not going to complain about having your thighs around my head, but I’m hoping it’ll end in good things for  _all_  involved.” 

Leaving her coffee cup on the counter, Natasha slid out of her seat with the kind of agile balance Darcy could only dream of. “Why don’t we find out?” 

As she walked away, Darcy admired the sway of her hips, and then hopped up to follow. It would be a good way to go, she decided. Well worth it.


	26. darcy/thor: "the only thing i want is you"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The only thing I want is you."

“The only thing I want is you.”

Darcy turned slowly, her eyes stinging and her heart lodged in her throat. “You know it’s not that simple.” 

“Why not?” Thor crossed the space between them, his hands, so big and so strong, were gentle on her shoulders. “You told me once that the simplest part of being human was to love someone.”

“I told you it was the most simple and most  _complicated_.” She stared up at him, searching his face. “Falling in love doesn’t erase everything else. There are still barriers. There are  _people_ involved. People who can get hurt. People I  _care_ about.”

“I care about Jane too. I always will. But we parted ways long ago. She is happier now.” He shook his head, his brow furrowed. "I feel no ill will toward Banner for opening her heart once more. Why can’t we have the same?” 

“It’s different. I was the one who mopped Jane up off the floor after you guys fell apart. I fed her ice cream and told her men sucked and you’d never find anyone better than her in any realm. I’m her best friend. I don’t get to date one of the great loves of her life. It’s not... It’s against the code.” 

“Where is this code written? What weight does it have?” He sighed heavily, his face drawn. “I don’t understand this custom. Time has passed. Jane is happy. And you... I have felt your gaze, felt your love, felt your  _fear_ when I go into battle... Will you not admit that, at least?” 

“I admit it. I admit all of it.” She shrugged, blinking back tears, her fingers balling up the ends of her sleeves into her palm. “But I can’t do anything about it. I can’t...” Her head tipped back as her throat burned and she willed her eyes to stop stinging. “I just want to do the right thing. Why is this so hard?” 

“Because it’s not right. Denying yourself happiness won’t fix anything.” His hands slid up her shoulder to cradle her neck and drew her face forward, so their eyes could meet. “You asked me why I made it rain, why I was sad, what I wanted that would make it better, and I told you. I offered no false words. I want  _you_ , Darcy.” 

Her heart stuttered.

“In all my years, I’ve grown the most here on Midgard. I’ve honored the team, supported my brothers and sisters in arms, done all I could to keep this realm safe from harm. And some days, I do what’s right  _because_  it is right. Others, because this is your home and I would see it safe so you are too. I am only so selfless. In this, I won’t be.” His fingers threaded through her hair, thumbs rubbing the tops of her cheeks. “Tell me honestly... If you don’t want me, I’ll accept it. But if you do... If you do, then let me love you.” 

Darcy peered up at him, pulse skittering, and she knew she had a long talk in her future, one with ice cream and apologies and ‘please don’t hate me’s’. But maybe she wasn’t so selfless either, and maybe love could be simple when it was right. 

He caught her in his arms as she leapt up to grab hold of her future. They crashed together, mouths meeting in an effort to make up for lost time. He tasted like rain on a spring day, dew on grass, lightening and thunder and the cold breeze of an ebbing storm. And it felt  _right_.


	27. Darcy/Jane: "You're so beautiful."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "[You're so beautiful.](http://leidoscope.tumblr.com/post/128635221443)"

“You’re so beautiful.”

"And you’re  _drunk_. But I appreciate the sentiment anyway.” 

“No, listen,  _shh_...” Jane grabbed at the front of Darcy’s top to bring her head down, which was confusing since they were about the same height. “Whoops.  _Boobs_.” 

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, they haven’t gone anywhere since puberty.” Arm around Jane’s narrow waist, she continued to hold them upright as they rode the elevator to their floor. “Remind me again why you were drinking in the lab?” 

“Science,” she replied gravely. 

“Usually science is better when you can remember what you did.” Darcy raised an eyebrow back at her. 

“No. I mean... I mean the science... It wasn’t co-oper... co-opera’ing... It was being  _bad_ ,” Jane said, stomping her foot. 

The elevator doors opened then and they stepped out together, one a little more coordinated than the other, before they started the short trek toward their apartment.

“Okay... And you thought drinking would, what, loosen it up?” 

She shook her head, briefly distracted by Darcy’s hair as she began to pet it. “So soft... Smells so good...” 

“We use the same shampoo.” Darcy came to a stop in front of their door. “C’mon Janey, we’re almost home.” Digging her key card out from her pocket, she stuck it in and waited for the light to flash before she pushed down on the handle and let them in. Kicking off her shoes at the door, she led them down the hall with a stumbling Jane at her hip, glad for the open concept design Tony offered in all the apartments so they didn’t bump into anything. 

Making their way into Jane’s room, Darcy let her to her bed and let her flop down atop the mattress while she unlaced her sneakers and tossed them out of the way. “Okay. Water and Tylenol,” she muttered to herself before slipping away to the bathroom. 

It wasn’t often that Jane drank, and very rarely did she do it alone, so Darcy would be lying if she said she wasn’t a little worried. But trying to get anything out of her when she was drunk wouldn’t get them anywhere, so she’d have to wait for answers in the morning. 

Returning to Jane’s room, she found her flopped over on her back, eyes half-lidded as she hummed a song under her breath. 

“Here. Drink some water before you fall asleep,” she said, holding the glass out as she put the Tylenol on the bed side table. 

Jane managed to push up onto her elbows and accept the glass. She drank nearly half of it before she handed it back a little aggressively and Darcy nearly dropped it. 

“Whoops,” Jane giggled. 

“Uh-huh. Don’t think we aren’t talking about why you felt like getting plastered and didn’t even invite me. Because I’m a good friend, I’ll let you sleep in tomorrow. But as soon as you’re up, we’re going to have a conversation about why sharing is caring and--”

She wasn’t expecting the kiss. She’d thought about it. Hey, when someone has a best friend/boss as pretty and smart and awesome as Jane is, thoughts happen. But she hadn’t expected any of those thoughts to actually manifest. And then Jane’s lips are on hers and they’re as sweet and soft as Darcy had imagined. They’re also fleeting, since she falls back to her bed, snuggles her pillow, and says, “Sleep now.” 

Which effectively ends that moment. 

Sighing, Darcy rolled her eyes, but the indulgent affection was still there. She dug the blanket out from beneath Jane and tucked her in before she brushed her fingers over her hair and left the room. Tomorrow was going to be an interesting conversation, to say the least. She was kind of looking forward to it. 


	28. Darcy & Jane: "Don't let go!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Don't let go!" 
> 
> [set in 1943, Captain America!Jane, eventual Winter Soldier!Darcy]

“Don’t let go!”

Jane tightens her grip on Darcy’s wrist, panting at the effort it takes to hold them both up. She’s straddling the wall of the train, foot up against the inner wall, her hand gripping tight on the lip. Metal saws into her palm, she can feel blood squelching under her fingers and dripping down her forearm. “I won’t! I promise!” 

The wind is howling past them, the train moving too quickly, and Darcy has one arm on the loose train door and the other in Jane’s hand. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. They were supposed to win the war and go home together. They were supposed to beat HYDRA and Hitler and know that they did everything they could to make the world just a little less terrible, or maybe a little more survivable. 

Darcy is terrified, and it’s a horrifying thing to see, because she was always the stronger of the two, always the one who laughed when things got tough, who chose to grin instead of wallow, who knocked her on the chin and said, “Cheer up, Janey.” She was the strong one, damn it. Not Jane. Jane was always the one being pulled up, the one holding onto Darcy’s hand as she ran headfirst into life, making it bow to her whims. But here they are, in the middle of the snowy mountains, in a country that isn’t theirs, fighting to hold onto the only person they’ve got left. 

The team is on the train; they’re further up, doing what they can. And Jane cares about them, she does. They’re her brothers; war’s bonded them in ways that can’t be broken. But Darcy isn’t just her sister, she’s her everything. She’s her best friend and her soul and the very heart of her. She’s the only person that ever looked at her and didn’t see someone to pity but someone to befriend. 

“Hold on tight. I’m going to pull you in, okay?” She plants her foot against the wall; if she can just get a good hold…

“The door is coming off,” Darcy shouts, and her voice feels so far away. It’s  _too_ far away. “Janey, please. I don’t want to die.” 

And there are tears. Tears stinging her eyes and spilling down her cheeks, and Jane shakes her head, tries to clear her throat and smile like it’s okay, she’s got this. But Darcy is crying and the wind is so loud and the blood on her hand is so  _slippery_. 

It drips to the floor and her boot catches on it. She lurches forward, shoulder slamming, hand slipping, and catches herself against the side of the train with her leg. Darcy’s precarious position falls even further and the door gives a terrible, ominous creak. 

“Don’t let go!” Darcy cries. 

“I won’t!  _I won’t!_ ”

But she does. 

The door detaches from the train and the extra weight yanks Darcy down so abruptly that it knocks Jane’s grip loose. All she’s left with is a torn sleeve as Darcy tumbles backwards, the echo of her scream answered in Jane’s return cry. 

The falling snow eats up her image and the trains tears ahead. Jane can do nothing but stare down into an icy hell and know that she’s failed. She failed. She falls back onto her haunches, bows her head, and hugs the scrap of fabric to her heart as she sobs. “ _I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry_ …” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I technically have a Cap!Jane, Winter!Darcy story started. There's only one chapter. The second is halfway finished, but then I stalled a bit because it's so _big_. But I do plan to return to it, so you can get some background on this piece and just read some more Cap!Jane/Winter!Darcy in " **[we’ll never die (we’re like diamonds in the sky)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1662053/chapters/3526439)** "


	29. Darcy & Jane: "That’s the third time I’ve saved your life!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "[That’s the third time I’ve saved your life!](http://leidoscope.tumblr.com/post/128635221443)"

Darcy struggled to catch her breath, a hand pressed to her heaving chest, water soaking her from head to toe, sand in places sand should never be. She lost her glasses at some point, her ears were clogged, and she was sick and tired of all these near-death experiences.

Sitting up abruptly, her vision swimming for a moment, she started ringing out her hair and glared (well,  _squinted_ , really) in Jane’s direction. “For the record, that’s the  _third_  time I’ve saved your life, this month  _alone_! You are officially _banned_ from science until I no longer feel like I’m on the fringes of becoming a PTSD statistic.”

Jane laid in the sand, staring up at the blue sky, clutching a mechanical _thingamabob_ (Darcy can’t be held responsible for not remembering every scientific thing that comes out of Jane’s mouth; there’d be no space left for 90’s song lyrics). “Did you see it though? There was a signal.”

“You know what I saw?  _You_. Nearly drowning. And I’m pretty sure I saw a fin. Like a  _shark_ fin, Jane.”

“But the meter went off, didn’t you see it?” She was getting excited now. “Do you know what this means?”

“That I clearly need to invest in life jackets, to be worn at all times, on land and off.” Pushing up from the sand, Darcy walked over, hooked Jane under her arm pits and lifted her up to her feet. “ _Look_ , I’m all for science. I will support you to the ends of the earth in all your nerdy needs. But there is a limit to what’s okay and what isn’t okay. It walks about the same line as what is and isn’t safe. And half of your science? Super  _not_  safe.” She waved her hands around meaningfully. “Do you know where we are? Because I don’t. I know we were in a  _dingy_  that capsized in the middle of freaking  _nowhere_  and now we are on an island,  _also_ in the middle of freaking nowhere.”

“My calculations were right.  _Darcy!_ Do you have any idea what kind of breakthrough I just made? Oh, this is amazing. This is—” Jane shook her head. “We have to get back to the lab. We have to tell someone about this!”

“Did you miss the part about the  _island_?”

“What?” Confused, Jane took a look around, blinking owlishly at the jungle at Darcy’s back and the sandy, empty beach they stood on. “No, no, this won’t work at all. I—I have  _research_  to do. I have work! I’m right on the edge of a scientific breakthrough that will revolutionize—”

“Tell it to the island, sister.”


	30. Darcy/Natasha: "I trust you"

Natasha doesn’t wince as Darcy cleans the open cuts across her back. She merely sits, drinking a bottle of vodka as she leans forward on a backward-turned chair, her shirt and bra tossed to the floor, torn and blood-soaked, _useless_. 

Darcy cleans the blood from her skin and prods at each cut gently, slowly. Just because Natasha won’t show it hurts doesn’t mean she can’t feel it. 

“You wanna talk about it?” Darcy asks, her voice pitched low. 

Nobody can hear them; they’re the only two in the bunker, but this feels personal, intimate even. 

“You don’t have to. I can just keep doing this and you can keep doing the quietly terrifying badass thing. I can babble for a while too. Nothing important, just dumb, normal stuff. It might take your mind off things. Like the fact that your back looks like someone took a cheese grater to it.” She pauses. “That sounded insensitive. Was that insensitive? Now that I think about it, sensitivity training doesn’t seem like something SHIELD _would_ do, but maybe should’ve thought about. Although I guess they’re not calling it SHIELD anymore. I’ve heard talk of calling it SWORD and–” 

She stops as Natasha covers one of her hands– _has it been shaking this whole time?–_  holding onto it and squeezing lightly. “You’re nervous.” 

“Nervous, worried; potato-potahto.” 

“I’ll be fine.” 

“Really? Because the cheese grater thing wasn’t completely wrong.” Darcy chews her lip as she wipes at blood still seeping from a few different cuts. “My previous medical training consists of putting Disney-themed Band Aids on Jane’s papercuts. I’m not exactly up to snuff on this stuff.” 

“You’re doing fine,” Natasha assures. 

“You say that now, but you can’t see your back… And I think you’ve knocked off most of that bottle. Vodka makes you forgiving.”

“Depends on the vodka. The cheap stuff makes me surly.” 

Darcy snorts, a smile pulling at her mouth. “If I remember right, the good stuff makes you _friendly_.” 

It always starts with a bottle of the good stuff, with Natasha appearing in front of her door, holding the bottle up as a hello, and Darcy inviting her in, knowing full well where this is headed. She’s not complaining; they always have their fun. She just wishes fun wasn’t all it was. When she wakes up, her bed is empty, the sheets still warm, and Darcy is equal parts disappointed and unsurprised. She’ll come back, she always does. Of course, that might have to change now that the most recent hook up ended with Natasha being attacked and violently knifed in Darcy’s own living room. But she survived, she always did, and she got Darcy out too.

Natasha’s fingers squeeze again, grabbing her attention. 

“That wasn’t the alcohol, _kotyonok_ , that was just you.” Still, she takes another drag off the bottle. “Bandage me. We have work to do.” 

“ _Pew, pew_ work? Because you should probably try to sleep before we go out all guns a blazing.” 

“Research first. I need your help finding out who found me, and why.” 

Darcy digs out a roll of gauze from the First Aid Kid. “You trust me with that?” 

Natasha turns her head, peers at her over her shoulder. Her brow is furrowed as she says, “I trust you.” 

And the words may say one thing, but they sound like something else, something deeper, something that tilts Darcy’s world just a little. And it isn’t until Natasha turns back around, and waits for Darcy to continue, that she realizes that this woman, this very deadly, very intelligent, very _paranoid_ , person, has given Darcy her back. _Actions speak louder than words._

Darcy clears her throat and unwinds the gauze, shifting forward on her stool as she turns her attention to getting Natasha patched up. But when she’s finished and Natasha has dug a new shirt and sports bra out of a drawer somewhere, Darcy washes her hands and says, “I trust you too. You know?” 

Natasha nods, something soft in her eyes and the vague tilt of her mouth. “I know.”

The moment can’t last. They have things to do. Information to find, people to hunt down. But Darcy holds tight to those three words and what they mean. When this is over, she’ll say it again, she’ll say it _right_. 


	31. darcy/bruce: things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear

Bruce blinked. “I’m sorry?” 

“You’re forgiven.” Darcy paused, stepping back from the tea and snack plate she’d put in front of him. She dusted her hands off and eyed him suspiciously. “What’d you do wrong?” 

“No.” He laughed awkwardly and reached for his ear, tugging on the lobe. “No, I, I thought I heard you say something… About my hair. You said it was fluffy?” 

Darcy’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open before she snapped it shut. There was a blush crawling across her cheeks, but her eyes darted away and she lifted her chin defiantly. “I take it back. You’re not forgiven. You were also supposed to be in a science coma. And I have first hand knowledge that those who are sciencing cannot hear me. Otherwise Jane would eat her food and drink her water like a good little boss-lady. So if what you’re saying is true, then Jane Elizabeth Foster has been blatantly ignoring me, in which case, _how dare she!?_ ” Whirling on her heel, she stalked toward the door. 

Bruce stared after her. Clearing his throat, he glanced up, toward the ceiling. “Fluffy could be a compliment, right?” 

“ _Coming from Miss. Darcy, Doctor Banner, I have every reason to believe it was exactly that_ ,” JARVIS replied. 

Bruce nodded, and then reached for the tea in front of him, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.


End file.
